Still Here
by JCBS
Summary: Han and Leia get closer aboard the Falcon, pre-ESB. Rated M for language.


_Thank you so much to my wonderful beta-readers, Justine Graham and Jedi of Grace, for all the time and effort you devoted to improving this story. Your support and encouragement has meant the world to me! Xo_

 _This fic is dedicated to the lovely Erin Darroch, who has graciously tolerated my constant pleas for *more* for nearly two years now._

 ** _Still Here_**

By JennyCBS

Han Solo was all for Leia Organa having fun; she didn't have nearly enough of it, in his opinion. But until tonight, he'd never imagined her idea of fun included getting tipsy on his private stash of Corellian whiskey.

Truth be told, Han felt somewhat responsible for her current buzzed state. She'd never drunk whiskey before; but tonight, after dinner aboard the Falcon with Luke and Chewie, Leia had insisted upon trying some of the premium Whyren's Reserve he'd somehow managed to procure on his last supply run. Han had thought that she would take a sip, wrinkle her nose and set the glass down on the dejarik table, but he'd underestimated her stubborn resolve, and was frankly surprised at her determination.

Now, one-and-a-half glasses later, her glassy eyes and the hint of slur in her voice made Han suspect that Leia was dangerously close to her limit. He was loath to act as her chaperone, and he didn't want to appear too fatherly by suggesting she'd had enough; but he also knew she would be mortified if anyone saw her stumbling across base in this condition.

Luke had called it quits after one small glass, declaring that he needed to be sharp and alert for an early morning shift. When he'd asked Leia if he could walk her back to her quarters, she had surprised everyone by announcing that she wanted to stay a while longer. Chewie had turned in not long after Luke departed, leaving Han alone with Leia in the Falcon's lounge.

Leia was unusually quiet as they sat side-by-side on the acceleration couch. Han wasn't sure if her reservedness was due to her intake of alcohol, or because she was lost in her own private thoughts. In any case, he was enjoying the easy silence between them.

"This isn't as terrible as I expected," Leia remarked after a time, indicating her nearly empty tumbler as she tugged absentmindedly at the high collar of her standard-issue uniform blouse.

Han's eyes fell to the buttons at her neck, then flicked upward to study her profile. He noticed how a few strands of hair had come loose from her tightly-wound braids and now softly framed her face. He'd never seen Leia with her hair down; he suspected few people had. An unbidden thought came to him, and he couldn't help but wonder under what circumstances he might…

He gave himself a mental shake to redirect his thoughts. There was no point in thinking about that because it was never going to happen; at least, as far as Leia was concerned. She had made clear on several occasions that she was only interested in Han for the services he provided on behalf on the Alliance, and sometimes even that didn't seem good enough. They'd gone several rounds over his staunch rejection of her offers to enlist, each one ending with Leia huffing off in exasperation and Han steaming in silent frustration over the exchange.

Their arguments often left Han wondering just why she got so worked up about his refusal to join the Rebellion. Leia clearly wanted him to stick around, and he suspected it was for more than just her lost cause. He couldn't help but recall the dozens of times she'd met the _Falcon_ upon its return to base. Without fail, Leia would appear within minutes of their landing to greet him and Chewie. Did she show up to meet the ship of every contractor running supplies for the Rebels? Han didn't think so. Regardless, during these reunions, Han would often invite Leia to return later to the _Falcon_ for a meal or a round of sabacc, once he and Chewie had finished unloading their shipment. Han had realized quite early on in their acquaintance that Leia was much more likely to accept if Luke or Chewie would also be present, and so it was usually the four of them who spent long evenings together aboard his ship. Leia's decision to stay without their usual chaperones made Han curious as to why she wanted to be alone with him tonight.

But it didn't matter why Leia was still here, or _why_ she wanted him to stay with the Alliance, Han reminded himself. Staying wasn't an option. As soon as possible, he and Chewie were hitting the open skies and heading for Tatooine. _The sooner the better_ , he reasoned. Things were going to be bad with Jabba—very bad. Better to cut his losses here before he got any more involved.

Han drained his own whiskey and set the empty glass on the table. "Goes down real nice, once you're used to it."

Leia hiccuped in response, and Han couldn't help but chuckle. He'd never once heard the princess hiccup, and it made him question again just how inebriated she was.

"Pardon me." Leia covered her mouth and gave him a sideways glance, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I'll excuse you," Han grinned. "This time."

She raised her slightly unfocused eyes to his. "How are you so sure there will be a _next_ time?" she asked in a light, teasing tone.

"Because Whyren's is hard to come by these days, unless you've got connections, like me," Han replied smugly as he pointed to his own chest. "And you seem to like the Corellian stuff better than anything else you've tried."

Leia flushed crimson, clearly not yet intoxicated if he was able to make her blush so easily. Han loved seeing Leia like this, relaxed and at ease, without a hint of conflict simmering between them. He just wished it hadn't taken any alcohol for her to reveal this side of herself to him; he wished it could always be like this…

Wait, what was he _doing_ , fantasizing about _always_ , when he'd just reminded himself that he was _leaving_ , as soon as possible? He needed to stop thinking like this before either of them said or did something they'd later regret.

No, he thought as he cast another furtive glance at the woman beside him, he'd never regret anything about time spent with Leia. He'd only regret that he couldn't stay…

"You don't gotta' finish that, Princess," Han offered, interrupting his own thoughts in order to quash the surge of emotion he felt at the thought of leaving her for good.

Leia continued to eye her remaining amber liquid for a moment, then locked eyes with him playfully as she brought the tumbler to her lips and knocked it back.

Han suppressed a laugh as he scratched the stubble on his jaw; leave it to Leia to turn a suggestion into a challenge. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed spending time with her: she constantly took him to task. That, and her sharp wit, compelled him to seek out her company, more often than he cared to admit.

Having finished her drink, Leia proceeded to reach for the bottle of whiskey, presumably to refill her now-empty glass. Remembering his earlier vow to himself not to let any of his friends hit the deck drunk, Han reached across Leia's body, placing his hand over hers. He thrilled at the touch of her skin as a spark of electricity arced through him. When her eyes darted up to his, he was certain that she had felt it too.

"Han, what are you…?"

"I got something else you'll like, Sweetheart," he murmured. "Don't want you stumbling across base on your way home, 'cause of me."

Confused, Leia cast her eyes from his face to their touching hands. Han's eyes followed. When he could stand it no longer, he released her and got up from the couch.

Han did his level best to appear unaffected as he cleared his throat, hoping he still possessed the power of speech. "Gonna get you some of that silika water you love," he said, looking down at her upturned face. "Picked up another case for you last time I was on Spira."

Leia nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I'd like that. It's really warm in here."

Han hurried toward the galley. As he retrieved the water from the chiller, he stopped to lean against the counter, releasing a pent-up breath. It _was_ warm in here, and getting warmer by the second. What the hell was _wrong_ with him, grabbing Leia's hand like that? And why had she looked at him as if… as if she _liked_ it?

Nah, he was imagining things. Just as soon as she'd sobered up a bit, he'd send her on her way, and neither of them would ever mention the moment again. Han straightened and ran his fingers through his unruly hair before returning to the main hold with the water.

"Here ya' go, Sweetheart," he said, setting the water on the dejarik table. "Chilled just how you like it. Had to tell Chewie to keep his furry paws off it, or he'd have finished it before we even got back to base. He loves the bubbly stuff, same as you."

Han angled a quick look at Leia as he rounded the table. He noticed with a sudden flash of heat that she'd unfastened the top button of her high collar, revealing a highly distracting glimpse of the little hollow at the base of her throat. He swallowed hard past a throat gone suddenly dry, wishing he'd grabbed two bottles of water instead of just one. He scooted in beside her nevertheless, hesitating for a moment before stretching his long arms in either direction across the back of the couch. _What could it hurt?_ It was just to make himself more comfortable, he told himself. Not because – despite his errant thoughts this evening – he wanted to be close to her, to wrap his arms around her… Gods, how long had it been since he'd had his arms around a woman?

"Thank you." Leia's words broke Han's reverie. "I don't mind sharing with Chewie, though."

"You come and help yourself, any time you like." Han glanced over at her. "Got plenty in the chiller. You know the codes, even if I'm not here."

Leia nodded. "I appreciate that."

Han watched her bring the water to her lips. Taking a long draft, she leaned back and closed her eyes as she swallowed. "Mmm," she practically moaned. "Goddess, this is good. It's been so long, I'd nearly forgotten how much I enjoy it."

Under any other circumstances, Han would have seized upon that innocent comment and turned it into an innuendo-laced gibe designed to raise that alluring flush of heat to Leia's cheeks. But he had to look away, afraid that if he didn't, _he_ would be the one blushing. Leia moaning and in ecstasy, for fuck's sake, was straight out of his fantasies. Now here she was, mere centimeters away from him with words rolling off her tongue that…

Han shifted in his seat and reached for the bottle, willing his hand not to shake as he refilled his own glass. _She has no idea_ , he thought.

As she placed her water on the tabletop, Leia turned slightly toward him, this time brushing Han's thigh with her own. He sucked in a breath. That was _not_ inadvertent. What in the hells was she _doing_? Didn't she realize how her touch drove him mad? It kept him awake at night, wondering why he was so taken with her. Sure, underneath that cool exterior, she was fiery, not to mention brave in a blaster-fight. And she was certainly pretty, but there were plenty of pretty faces in the Alliance. Why'd it have to be her whose image came unbidden to him at all hours?

"Why are you still here?" Leia asked at length, her voice steady and her eyes intent on his.

Han coughed slightly, trying to maintain his composure, when all he could think about was the sensation of Leia's thigh against his. "Last time I checked," he eventually managed, "this was my ship, Princess."

Leia didn't move away even as she reached for her water again. "You said nearly a year ago that you had a debt to pay off to that crime lord." She took a sip, lifted her eyes to his once more, and then continued, "Why are you still with the Alliance?"

Ah, so this was tonight's end-game? Han felt his hackles rise.

"I'm not _with_ the Alliance, remember?" he spat. "And don't worry. Me and Chewie are leaving, soon as we got enough credits to cover my debt to Jabba." Han grabbed his whiskey and finished it, slamming the glass back onto the table.

Leia looked momentarily hurt by his outburst. _Blast it_ , he hadn't meant to sound so angry.

"How could I forget?" she replied softly, "considering you remind me every chance you get?"

"Hey, I didn't mean…" Han started, wanting to fix things between them. It had been so nice, so easy, having Leia here next to him tonight. He didn't want this old argument to cause a rift between them again.

"I know." Leia took another drink, and replaced her water on the table. She fanned her face with one hand, and then brought her fingers to her collar, nimbly unfastening the next button. She exhaled, then leaned closer to him, offering a glimpse of ivory skin and a flash of collarbone beneath the shifting fabric.. "I just wish you'd…"

Han's eyes dropped involuntarily; had Leia stopped talking, or was it the sudden pounding of his heart drowning out her words? Instead of considering how to stop her recruitment pitch _yet_ _again_ , he found himself transfixed by the sight of the newly-revealed flesh visible beneath her slightly open collar. It was so creamy; he just _knew_ it would be soft under his lips. It was all he could do in that moment not to reach for her, slip his fingers into her hair, and pepper her neck with kisses. Her neck, behind her ear, underneath her…

Han forced his eyes back up to hers. She was nearly drunk, he reminded himself. It wasn't as if she was leaning in to him stone-cold sober; it wasn't as if she wanted to…

"You know," he said, once he found his voice again, "I could ask you the same question: Why are _you_ still here?"

Leia's gaze intensified as she studied him silently. Then her brow furrowed, and she seemed to change her mind about something. When she abruptly slid back, her shoulder caught Han's arm, which was still draped over the back of the couch. As she shifted, his arm slipped and suddenly he was holding her, his hand splayed across her back before he could stop himself.

He'd half expected her to jump out of her seat at his touch. When she simply looked up at him, scooting infinitesimally closer ( _kriff_!), he thought he might crawl out of his skin if he couldn't take her in his arms and bring his lips to hers.

Leia didn't back away. In fact, she didn't move. Time seemed to slow as Han watched, mesmerized, as her eyes flicked to his lips and back. He nearly groaned at his own restraint. When Leia leaned in, he could no longer hold back.

Han closed his eyes and pulled her close, his lips nearly to hers, when he heard the unmistakable sound of footfalls in the ring corridor. He blinked and saw Leia's own eyes already wide with apprehension. In an instant, she pulled back, and Han found himself holding onto nothing at all.

Luke entered as Leia shifted further away. "Hey," he greeted them, oblivious to his interruption. "I was just going to double-check my morning duties before lights-out, when I realized that I'd left my datapad here." He looked around the hold, spotting it at the engineering station. "There it is."

As Luke retrieved his datapad, Leia cleared her throat and stood up from the acceleration couch, holding onto the dejarik table for balance.

"Good timing, Kid," Han said gruffly, his eyes following Leia.

"Yes, actually," Leia agreed tightly, brushing her hands down across her slightly rumpled blouse while avoiding Han's gaze. "I'm heading back to my quarters now. I'll walk with you, Luke."

"Sure," Luke replied brightly. "Good night, Han."

"Night, Kid." Han reached for the bottle of Whyren's and poured himself another shot without looking up. "Princess."

As she reached Luke's side, Leia finally turned and acknowledged Han, a regretful look in her eyes.

"Another time, Han," she said solemnly. Then she looped her arm through Luke's, and allowed herself to be led out through the hatchway.


End file.
